Wendt Center Interviews Aline Martinez

September 11, 2018

If you’ve been to the Wendt Center’s NW office recently, you may have noticed our art installation piece, Mourning Morning, by local artist, Aline Martinez. The piece offers a variety of textures from ceramic “columns” to birds cut from delicate tissue paper and suspended with string. Aline was also a client of the Wendt Center. We met with Aline to learn how her experience with grief and with the Wendt Center has informed her art. You can read the interview below.

Aline Martinez, creator of Mourning Morning

How long have you been an artist?

I started in earnest in 2009. That’s when I got my studio. And I’ve been working from 2005—I have an undergraduate degree in fine arts. When I got out of undergraduate, I think there were a lot of things that art was informing me about that I couldn’t deal with, so I put it aside for 20 years. I had actually read a book about Alexander Calder. He started as an engineer, and shortly after changed his field of study and became an artist. So I thought, “okay. Maybe I don’t have to do it immediately.” I wasn’t really too much in earnest. I exaggerated. (Laughs.)

Primarily, from your work that I’ve seen, you work mostly in sculpture.

Yes.

What drew you to that particular medium?

I guess the physicality of it and the process of making things. I did stone carving in college and that felt a little more limited because once you take away, you can’t add on. So I really like the physical part. Being able to touch, and the textures, and to discern whether to add or to take away, and manipulate.

What brought you to the Wendt Center?

Grief. I think really it was an accumulation of 40 years of grief, but initially—actually, I’d gone to grief counseling before and I didn’t know about the Wendt Center—but then when I had to address grief issues again, I heard about the Wendt Center, and I just had a good experience from day one. I had an amazing experience here. A very healing and respectful place. I’m so grateful for it. And that’s why I wanted to donate something.

How would you describe your artistic vision? And also your process?

That’s a good question. I think it’s still evolving, so I’m not going to be able to be very clear because some of it is too personal. Being able to express things that I am unable to put into words. Sometimes I look back and I’m like “oh, that’s what I was thinking about.” (Laughs.) “Isn’t that amazing.” It becomes clear to me, where I am with certain thoughts and certain things. A lot of it is personal. The clearest thing to say is, I love the details in life. And so, in making sculpture, there’s no way to imitate life. Life is just so amazing. That in making things and making sculpture and manipulating, it’s my way of making what I see and maybe trying to imitate it a little bit. Create a texture that resonates for me. A lot of times I’m surprised by what comes out.

For example, I’m working on a big piece now. I started with a small drawing—it was maybe six inches. It’s turning into a hybrid of a lifesaver, that you throwout from a boat that just floats, and a ship’s anchor, which is also stabilizing and helpful, but sinks. So this piece is a hybrid of those two things, which are opposite, but have similar purposes. So that’s the kind of thing where I’m like, “oh. Isn’t that interesting.” So, often it becomes clear to me afterwards.

What does your work aim to say about grief?

Thank you. Thanks for your question. I guess I started [Mourning Morning] the first time I was really dealing with grief directly through therapy and grief groups. I realized that it’s a huge gift and there’s a lot of insight that comes with it. I had a blank book and I would ask people I know, when somebody dies, how do you feel? There were a lot of responses. With Mourning Morning, I guess it shows how grief is such a mixed bag of intense feelings. Sometimes it’s pain. Sometimes it’s “oh, how fragile things are.” Sometimes it’s, “oh, I’m so small.” Sometimes it’s, “I’m a piece of this big picture.” So, birds flying is a lot of freedom.

Especially in the morning, hearing birds chirp at 5 AM. And then the red string, with the birds tied to it. Those don’t have a lot of freedom. They’re bound to something. The mirror reflection of the tree leaves and the silhouettes give dimension. You can see yourself in the reflective surfaces. And in the shadow surfaces, sometimes things aren’t obvious because they’re covered. It’s a shadow. Sometimes feelings can be overwhelming. There is a positivity to it—there is kind of a release to it. And then sculptural pieces are actually done by another sculptor in South Africa, who I tried to contact but she never got back to me. But they remind me of funeral pyres or flames. Sometimes fire is a cleanser. Or even Three Mile Island. Reminds me of the nuclear towers. There’s possible loss there. Overall it’s just a big combination of what life presents. Positive, openness, darkness, pain, release.

That’s really interesting that the piece evolved from so many different sources. Did your experience at the Wendt Center inform the piece?

Yes. Especially because I had it at the end of a short hallway in my home. I knew the piece was about grief, but the more I did here [at the Wendt Center], the more I realized it’s not all bad. Sometimes grief is like—like a bowl of spaghetti and each piece you have to separate. It’s not just a bowl of spaghetti. It’s [made up of] individual pieces. Each feeling is an individual feeling but sometimes they get associated with other feelings. The Wendt Center helped me a lot seeing that it’s not just one big mess but to separate out feelings from fact from what makes sense.

I came [to the Wendt Center] with a lot of issues of distrust. [They taught me] to step back, breath and understand how I feel about it.

What is your main inspiration as an artist?

I would say life. How I experience it, obviously, because I’m in my own skin. Sometimes I’m in awe of how people respond. For example, the Wendt Center is so gentle and calm and that is something new to me. I’m not used to that. Maybe the Board meeting of my building. Board members are talking about difficult subjects and residents are complaining and the Board members are able to keep their cool. That amazes me. What people make. The red string with the birds on it [from Mourning Morning], somebody made that. It’s kind of interesting because I would never think to attach a bird from a string, it’s kind of neat. The way people look. The ways people do things. Nature. I guess I rely on my eyesight a lot I realize because I’m doing work now I realize with other people and other estates—virtual work. We’re on phone calls and I don’t see them. So, I rely on my eyesight a lot.

When people view Mourning Morning or some of your other work, what would you like them to take away?

Thanks for that question. The reason why I want my art to be shown, because I make art for me, is because sometimes I will make something and think, “Oh my gosh, I didn’t know that’s what I was thinking about.” And I’ve seen other people’s art where I’ve been like, “Oh my gosh, look at that.” When I see somebody else’s art, I can’t put it into words, but something happens to me and I see a clarity about something. So with my art, I would like to help people answer any questions they might have. Or have a straighter road to what they’re doing. Get a sense of peace. Or get a question answered. Have some kind of insight or see something they didn’t see about themselves. To find acceptance and love for themselves. Basically higher awareness—more awareness.

That’s great.

That’s my aim. (Laughs.)

How has your time at the Wendt Center influenced your other work, if at all?

Oh, it has. It has enabled me to work. It has enabled me to step back when I hear something. To work as a colleague with people and contribute. To not be so defensive. I came [to the Wendt Center] with a lot of issues of distrust. [They taught me] to step back, breath and understand how I feel about it. Do I just need to listen and make up my mind later about something? To just really be a human among humans. You know, some of us are sometimes having a good time and some of us are going through difficulties. We all get to go on that path.

So, that was my last question. Is there anything else you’d like us to know?

I guess for people to trust their own instincts. If they like something. I’m a volunteer at a museum to be a docent—to translate and guide people through art. And sometimes people are like, I don’t see it and I don’t trust myself. If somebody doesn’t like something, it doesn’t speak to them. Art, to me, is like a language that the artist creates. So, a society has Chinese or Russian. I don’t understand the first thing about it but I have to learn a little so I can understand artists more. And even when I learn, I don’t always like every artist’s work. So I would say for the art viewer to trust themselves. And to just ask or tell someone about it because often synergy among people and their ideas helps people see things more clearly. It’s not like a library where you have to be quiet. A museum or where art is is to be discussed or talked about or laughed about or whatever they want to do. And just trust their senses. And if they don’t get it, that’s fine. I’m sure they have other pieces that they like to look at.